


Drowning In Blood

by odairh



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 65th Hunger Games, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odairh/pseuds/odairh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagination of Finnick's games but from the view of another tribute. </p><p>District 12 tribute, Ellie, finds herself reaped into the 65th hunger games. She has to face her struggle of life and death with a spontaneous alliance that formed. Will this help her win or will it be the death of them both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Day

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is odairh.tumblr.com  
> feel free to leave any comments :)
> 
> It will be updated around Christmas.

Two peacekeepers either side escort me up the icy and desolate concrete corridor. My heart is beating far too fast and I believe I may have a heart attack before I even reach the arena. The leather on my boots creases in tiny lines as my pace picks up with my heart beat. I can hardly control my breathing as I think about how I may not ever come out of this situation and if I do, who will I be then? Perhaps I will be sadistic murderer or just a fourteen year old girl who was desperate for her life. Either way, I don’t see how any amount of money or fame will be able to wipe these horrors that I haven’t even experienced yet away from my memory. 

 

As we approach the door marked 12, I see another tribute start to make his way down the corridor. I manage to catch a glimpse of his bronze hair before I am forced to enter my prep room. One peacekeeper reaches for the door handle and pushes my back into the room. I experience a sudden rush of anxiety and adrenalin before I force myself to stay calm. That isn’t working. I see Cinna standing by the outfit and manage to catch his eye. My legs begin to move before I realise what is happening. They take me swiftly to Cinna’s arms, where I stay until I hear the minute warning. My heart jumps in fright as the voice echoes around the room through the speakers. Cinna’s hand naturally meets mine and speaks softly to my left ear.

“Calm down, Ellie. I trust in you, just remember that. Ok?” I nod stiffly in response. I don’t think I can make this but I don’t say it out loud because it will just upset him. 

“Ok,” I agree. He slides his hands away from mine and places them over the hanger that holds my jacket. It’s a pale blue, light weight fabric; perhaps coated with a waterproof material. Printed on the back of my right shoulder is ‘12’ in black writing. I guess this is so viewers can identify me if they have forgotten which district I come from already, or just to make my killer aware of whom I am. Maybe both reasons. 

 

I step back to take in the full view of my jacket. Cinna swoops the thing over my shoulders as I place my arms into it. He then takes a hair band from the silver table and pulls back my hair into a pony tail, leaving my side fringe tucked behind my ears. 

“There you go. Take a look.” Cinna points to the full length mirror over in the corner of the room. I jump again when the announcer says I have thirty seconds to prepare. 

 

Quickening my pace, I reach the mirror and take in every detail of my outfit. Pale, piercing blue eyes trace the outline of my face first. The straight nose positioned between two panicked eyes. The high cheek bones and the tensed jaw line where my anxiety starts to get the better of me. Next, my eyes fall to my torso. I’m wearing a tight fitted brown t-shirt and over that the weightless pale blue jacket that oddly seems to be the same colour as my eyes. Then the loose fitting brown trousers tucked into my leather boots; laced up the middle and a zip on the insides. I guess the laces are just decoration so viewers don’t get bored of my outfit, I think.

I turn my body back to Cinna just as the 20 second warning is announced. My eyes automatically blink and I hesitate to move closer to the clear tube. Cinna follows close behind and places his hand on my arm just as I reach the entrance. Flinching, I stop and hug him one last time. We hold our position until I have ten seconds to get prepared. 

“Good luck. Just remember, I trust you.” I jerk my head back at the words. Why trust me? I doubt I’m coming out alive. But instead of speaking those words, I just nod again.

He releases my arms and lets me place myself onto the metal pad in the center of the tube. Suddenly, it’s as if the air has been sucked out of me and I start gasping for the stuff. My eyes widen in panic and my heart races as the pad rises out into the daylight.

 

The sweet air fills my nostrils first. Strawberries, I think. The blinding light pales out my vision for a brief moment then it starts to clear. Adrenalin courses its way through my blood stream. Ok, I need to see my surroundings. My eyes dart around instinctively, trying to take in everything. Firstly my eyes land on the golden Cornucopia. In its mouth I see a pile of weapons, and in front of that twenty four green backpacks. They seem to be placed evenly in front of each tribute. That’s when my eyes shoot to my left. Who is it? I ask myself as my vision focuses onto him. District 3 maybe. Or seven. I’m not completely sure. Either way he’s shaking so much I can see it from hear in the shimmering heat wave that distorts my vision. I think I could take him if it came to it but then again I don’t want to think about murder right now. 

Now my head twists to the right of me. An older girl that looks about seventeen stands ready next to me. I can see her eagerness shining off her face. Kier seems to fit her face. Yes kier from district 1. She managed to throw three knives within three seconds and they all landed next to each other in the dummy’s head. I can’t see me taking her on.

I spin my head around the whole area now and see that I’m standing in a vivid green meadow with a long winding river encircling us around the cornucopia and outlining the ring of tributes. Beyond that there is just an abundance of lush woodland. It looks like autumn with the leaves beginning to turn orange and green-brown. It’s mesmerising. The sweet smell of strawberries seems to come from a strange looking plant with deep orange berries. Probably poisonous considering this is The Hunger Games. The countdown has reached twenty seconds now. I focus my attention ahead of me on my little green back pack. The same words echo in my head. Don’t go for a weapon. You’ll be knifed before you reach one. 

“Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” The gong sounds and the famous voice of Claudius Templesmith booms out across the arena. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games!”


	2. The Bronze Haired Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spontaneous alliance is formed.

Panic ignites in my body and turns to fire that burns down my arms and legs. My head begins to feel light and my vision blurs. My legs move fast without any thought; faster than usual. I’m locked onto the backpack, trying not to think of the enemy right now. The scream startles me and I jolt my head up and to the right of the cornucopia. People have already reached their packs and are making their way to the weapons. My feet crash into my green bag and I stumble over it. Adrenalin kicks in properly now and my arms have already swept it up and onto my shoulder. 

 

The thudding hits my ears with a bang before I feel the pain shudder over my entire body. The world tips on its side and my left side crunches as it hits the ground. The pain overwhelms the side of my head and nausea waves over me. I instinctively try and push my body back over but a weight seems to be pinning me down. All of a sudden, my body is lifted off the ground briefly and rammed again into the floor but this time on my back. I can see the weight now. It is kier pinning down with her strong arms. I try to resist against the weight and the pain that has infused my body to the floor.

“Stop moving, will you!” her voice is just as excruciating as the pain that covers my body as she slams me into the ground again. 

A sound of fear crossed with agony is released from my mouth. A grimace crosses her face as she pulls out the knife from her jacket. All I can think of is those words of advice I was given. Don’t go for a weapon. You’ll be knifed before you reach one. I guess I’ve failed even that simple task. It seems I was never destined to live through these games. Her right arm rises over my neck; poised to take the death strike. I love you, I think as pictures of my family and friends flash through my mind. I close my eyes to give up, but then the weight is suddenly shifted from my chest to my stomach. I flash my eyes open in fear to see what has happened to my attacker. I see her slumped over my side with blood spewing violently from her back. I gasp in horror and squirm my way out from under her. 

The sun glistens on the weapon that skewered her to death. A gold coloured spear sits up right out of her dead body. I push myself into a sitting position and catch sight of the bronzed haired tribute I saw earlier. He has a great physique of someone so young. I remember him from the interview. Said he was my age. I’m enthralled by his beauty for a moment and it seems he too has paused for a second. We lock eyes briefly before I see his arm rise to throw a second spear. He’s the enemy. I must remember that. My body flings itself onto its side and rolls out the way just in time for the spear to sink into the ground just to the right of my head. 

I am on my feet now; hurdling away from the cornucopia and heading towards the orange woods. I crash through the river and into the bushes and push my way through the entwining branches. Their snapping will give my location away to any near tribute, but right now I can’t hold that thought in my head. I’m heading for safety. 

 

After continuous running, I manage to smash into a trunk of a tree. I collapse to my knees and a flood of nausea devours my body. Sickness smothers my head and my stomach contracts. Nothing comes up but my gaging reflexes seem to be working. When I’ve heaved about five times the dizziness seems to stop and the nausea has eased off. I rest my head against the tree to catch my breath and remember I must watch my back.

I shift my weight onto my feet and swivel around. Sitting on the floor, I lean forward and take off my pack. I open it up and rest it on my legs. My hand reaches into the bag and I grab the first thing my fingers come across. A knife the size of my middle finger is the first thing I feel. I guess it would be useful for preparing meals if I could actually catch something to eat. Supposedly If I was attacked again I could use it as a weapon, but it is rather small. I set this next to me and dive back in. Cold metal shocks my finger as I swirly my hand in the bag. I pull out a small flask that actually holds water, but again, it isn’t very big and this will only last me for today and maybe through the night if I’m careful. Setting this gently against my leg, I pull out some rope, a bag of nuts and dried fruit and a small torch. 

As I look over my stuff again, my mind begins to drift away. I think of my district partner, Daemon. He was nice to me but I think it was more out of sympathy. He’s seventeen and is already quite muscular. If anyone should win, it should be him. He stands a decent chance at it. 

 

The boom of the cannon awakes me from my blissful daydream. I count along with each one until the end. Ten, I think to myself. That leaves fourteen of us. I bet there is already a career pack forming. The bronzed haired boy looks as if he is a career. I think back to the interviews. Yes, I believe he is from 4. Well, that won’t go down well with the other careers. Killing Kier will certainly loose him any favour from the District 1 boy, Auric. But then again his prowess may have shocked them all. I hope he has survived the initial blood bath. Wait. I’m stunned by my own thought. In the Games I shouldn’t be hoping that anyone is alive, but a warm feeling runs through my very core that it unsettles me from my sitting position. 

I push the thought aside and stand up. My legs moan at me but I know I must move forward and away from the cornucopia. I scale along the trees, looking out for any danger and setting a few snares that I picked up in training. I make a mental note to cover this path again to pick up any trapped animals. I focus my attention ahead of me and press my legs forward. A gasp escapes my mouth as I see the sight. 

I have stepped into a glade right in the middle of these magnificent orange woods. Overhead, birds fly out of the trees and I catch sight of the undersides of their wings. Flashes of white fly over me and the word Mockingjay comes to mind. There are raised banks either side of me and a small stream running around the edges. A brief moment of euphoria takes my breath away before I realise where I am. I am in a capitol arena that is probably laced with deadly traps. But for now, I take in the sun that seeps into the glade; liquid gold running through the trees creates a dappled effect across the forest floor. I wish I had come across this place in some sort of dream where there was no real danger. But I snap back into reality and make myself move once again because this is one place where any tribute is likely to spot me, even if they were taken back by this astonishing beauty. 

 

Nothing really happens for the next hour or so but then the sound of the cannon sounds and this startles me. I’ve settled myself down between two boulders that conceal me from sight but I can see any incoming enemies. This gives me chance to come to terms with my surroundings and situation. My thoughts take me to the career pack. It should be Auric, both from 2 and both from 4. Perhaps they have added a couple of initial tributes to the pack, but in theory it should only be 1, 2 and 4. I don’t want to think about this anymore. That same warm sensation runs deep in my body as I think of the district 4 tributes. I don’t want to feel anything for them, but I can’t help thinking about the boy from 4. No. I really don’t want to think about this. Instead, I come up with the idea of tracing my steps back through my snares and see if I have anything.

I push up onto my feet and stretch a little to ease my muscles out of my cramped sitting position. I lift up my backpack up and sling it onto my shoulders. My feet take me back through to the glade. Along the way, I pick up two rabbits and a squirrel. Well, I’m not entirely sure if that is what they are considering they look different to the usual sort, but this is The Hunger Games so I guess it could be anything. I sling these over my pack and make my way back to my little hide out. Between the two boulders, there is enough cover to obscure the small I fire I want to make, but there is the smoke to worry about. I make it anyway and discover that by the time the smoke reaches the top of the boulders, it has begun to thin out. 

 

Night begins to fall gradually over the arena and I think it’s about time I move out and find a place to sleep. My head it drawn skyward so I can scan the surrounding area. I consider climbing a tree and realise this is my best option. There isn’t really enough space to sleep in my secret hideout, but I don’t want to move too far away from it. I focus on the tree I want and make my way towards it cautiously, trying not to disturb any of the decaying leaves from under me in this diminishing light. My limbs scale the tree with ease. The bountiful branches give me plenty of ledges to cling to, but also the plush foliage has obscured me from sight. Swinging my bag up onto the branch I have chosen to perch myself on, I pull my body up onto it. It really is quite comfortable once you get used to the roughness of the bark. 

 

Just as I settle myself in and organise my pack, the seal of Panem appears in the sky; hovering in the distance. The anthem has been cranked up so load that I can’t even concentrate on my own thoughts. Kier’s face is the first to show then both from 3 and the girl from 4. I guess she wasn’t as strong of a career as I believed she was. The boy from 5 and both from 7 are the next to show up. It’s best that I don’t remember their names because it would just make it harder for me to watch. Finally the girls from 8 and 9 show up along with the boy and girl from 10. That’s it. The mini show is over and I now know who is left. I’m relieved the bronze haired boy from 4 is safe. But I shouldn’t feel this. This is wrong but I can’t seem to bring myself to feel any different. Now I’ve push aside this feeling as much as I can, I settle down into a light sleep. 

 

I awaken to the sound of yelling. My eyes instantly fly open and I am frozen into place. It sounds nearby; too close for my liking. My ears listen intensely while I start to move my body again. The initial fright of horror has eased of my body and I can think clearly now. I try to locate the sound and realise its coming from my right. Tentatively, I brush aside the foliage and try to search for the source of the noise. Nothing. I want to investigate, but my body seems to be reluctant to move from the sitting position I am in. forcing myself to rise, I grab my pack and sling it over my shoulder. Branches snap from under my hands as I try to steady my weight, but instead I end up freezing in place again because I’m almost certain someone heard me. Once I’ve convinced myself that I’m safe, I continue to move. I look out to the right of me along the never ending abundance of trees. There is a clear path that I could walk across to search for the fighting in the trees. I decide to swing myself from tree to tree as this will keep me off the ground and out of sight. My hand reaches for my backpack and I take out the miniature knife. Feet moving swiftly now, I manage to cover a fair distance before I am overwhelmed by the sight of blood. 

 

The vile red liquid is spewing in all directions from some very fatal looking wounds around the abdomen area of the two fighting tributes. I can feel my eyes widen with fear. As my vision begins to clear after a round of dizziness hits me, I can start to make out the two small faces underneath my tree. The two figures are tossing and shifting underneath my branch. With each movement and struggle, more blood gushes from their wounds. The first face I recognise is the male tribute from district 6. I recall his name as Amos.

Wait, Is that Daemon? Sudden shock immobilizes my limbs and neck. All I can do is stare at the red combating profiles under me. A rush of burning rips through my body and the horror is turned into fury. I don’t even realise what is happening to me until I’m in the air. 

 

A terrifying sensation of falling engulfs me and I realise I have my knife in hand still. Red covers my entire sight and my body is infused to the ground. I come to my senses at once and see my hand is still attached to my dagger. Brushing my finger down the blade, I see it had been wedged into flesh. Disgust and disbelief fills me as I comprehend what has just happened. My knife sticks firmly out of the neck of a boy. I roll of the body I have landed on and scramble onto my feet. I feel disgusted with myself, if that is even a strong enough word for that. I’m dazed for a moment and then I see the very confused face of Daemon.

Daemon! Relief is what I feel for a split second, but then the weight of guilt and much more burdens me. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment. My ear picks up the sound of rustling and I flinch. My head spins to the side and I catch a glimpse of that same distinct bronze hair. A strange feeling of butterflies stirs in my stomach as I realise who it is. I glance back at Damon and then turn immediately back to the spot where I saw the district 4 tribute. He’s gone. 

I’m stunned at whether or not I was imagining things. I turn back to daemon and cannot seem to muster the courage to look into his eyes anymore. I only feel repulsion and embarrassment. Before thinking, I wedge the knife out of Amos’ neck and run. And run. And continue to run. My mind is racing just as fast as my legs. What did I just do? I contemplate on the last five minutes. Out of nowhere, I feel something snag my leg and before I know it, I’m face down on the floor with a searing pain coming from all points over my body. 

 

Pain. That’s all I can feel. It seems to be paralysing me. I have some feeling in my arms and legs and I try to push my numb torso over to face the sky. But this seems to be more of a struggle than I had anticipated. Something seems to be holding me in place and tightly holding my arms to my side. Panic springs up from all directions and adrenalin pumps fast through my veins. With this added strength, I manage to twist my body over. 

 

I see it now that the sun is shining on it. A very firm net is holding me together. I flail around and I can’t help it when I let out a cry of fear. I hear footsteps approach me and I ready myself for a death blow. My head falls to the left, to face the direction of the footsteps. First I see the leather boots, then the trousers and finally the face of some extraordinary beauty. My stomach turns and I feel only reassurance. Has he come to save me? He may have heard my cry. 

 

No, wait. He has a gold weapon in his hand. Not a spear, that’s for sure. It looks more like… what? I don’t know. But whatever this three spiked object is, it looks deadly. I hear a cannon boom and it seems to stun both of us but then I realise it must be Amos. He’s finally dead then. I killed him. I am a killer. I push up my head and stare into the eyes of this other tribute that stands before me. His hand rises with the weapon tightly in his grip. My eyes flick away to the ground and I think I actually feel a tear trickle down my check. This is really it then. 

 

I expect to hear the sound of impact on my flesh, but instead I flinch at the sound of footsteps again. They keep approaching so I lift my eyes again to see him walk towards me with his weapon lowered and a knife in his other hand. What is he doing? He can’t surely be coming to save me. Or perhaps he wants to kill me up close. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly as he comes kneels me. 

 

The sound of ripping hits my ears and I cringe at the unpleasantness. I expect to feel an intense agonizing pain in my stomach or chest, but instead I find that the pressure of the net has eased. A delicate hand draws it back away from my body and then it meets my own hand. I recoil at the touch but his hand follows. It encases mine again and a strong pull lifts me to my feet. Both of his hands cling to my arms as to steady me. 

“Are you OK? You seem rather traumatised.” My eyes fixate on his face. Concern crosses his expression and I feel faint, but I manage to speak. 

“Err yes, I guess.” The shacking in my voice is undeniable and he sweeps a piece of hair off of my face. “What is your name?” He asks is a gentle voice. I stand mused as I register what he just said. 

“Ellie.” I still can’t control the shacking. “And you are?”

“I’m Finnick.” His voice seems comforting and ever so kind. 

“Why save me, Finnick?”

“I saw you kill that District six boy, Amos. He was my ally along with the other careers you know, until you killed him.” This still isn’t an answer.

“But why save me?” I repeat. 

“You Have skill. Think we would be best as Allies?” This isn’t making any sense. Does he really want to save me to be an Ally or is this a trap? But the butterflies in my stomach win me over. I cannot refuse. 

“Allies.” I respond warily.


	3. The Alliance

Allies? I surely can’t be serious, can I? I’m putting my life into someone else’s hands and I’ve never even met Finnick until now. I see a smile cross his lips as he hears the words for himself. I look deep into his eyes and take in every detail of these fantastical green eyes before me. I can’t hold his gaze for long, though. It’s either the embarrassment of killing his original ally, or just the guilt of liking him. Liking him? I guess that’s what I could call it, for the moment. As I pretend to adjust my jacket to overcome the awkwardness I have just created in my mind, one thought comes to me that I can’t resist asking.

 

“Finnick, why wasn’t you with the other careers?” His face distorts from a smile to blankness. It is as if he is waiting for me to figure it out. He tilts his head towards the floor at an angle then raises the hand that is holding that deadly looking weapon.

“I wasn’t with them because of this.” He holds up is hand higher so I can see it. 

 

“What is it?” my voice gives away my bewilderment. 

 

“It’s a trident, Ellie - More powerful than a spear and gives me a big advantage over the others.” This doesn’t explain anything. Surely if he had just received this and as he said it gives him a ‘big advantage’, then why isn’t he still with the others? Anyone would want a talented ally on their side. Wouldn’t they?

 

“So? Surely if your such a good fighter with this thing then why aren’t you still with them?” I don’t know why but a bit of anger comes out and I can see it in his face that he has just picked that up. 

 

“I left them. I thought that if they went looking after me I may be able to kill them off guard rather than killing them there and then like they would expect me to after receiving this.”

That explains it then. Why he was watching me when I killed his ally, Amos, from district 6. He was actually planning on killing Amos then, but obviously Daemon got to him first. Well, actually I did, but if Daemon wasn’t there, Finnick may have been killed. That makes more sense now. Amos must have been tracking Finnick but Daemon was their instead. Relief again, that is what I feel. But this only provokes guilt on Daemons side. I don’t want Daemon to die, but then again I am grateful for him being there. This makes me feel slightly better about killing Amos now. Not that I should be. I hate the thought of killing and I have killed. I still hate myself for it. 

 

Since Finnick has nowhere to go, I show him back to my little hideout between the two boulders. We won’t be able to sleep in it but for now we can at least make a small camp. As we walk back I decide to ask Finnick what we are going to do now because he was hunting for the career pack, but I was, well, just trying to avoid killing all together. 

“Are you still going to hunt down the career pack?” I ask.

“Yes, but not straight away. I mean, if I kill the career pack then who will then kill off the others?” His voice is still gentle even though he isn’t trying to comfort me. To be honest, I hadn’t thought of that. I can’t help but feel uncomfortable with this. I don’t want to purposely kill people. That’s not my game. And it shouldn’t be Finnick’s either. 

 

I don’t like this. Not one bit. But then I feel scared at the thought of being killed. I’m going to have to face them one way or another. Finally, after a long pause, Finnick looks into my eyes and nods. I can sense that he can see my uneasiness. The thing is, I trust Finnick, even though I’ve just met him. If I’m going to be facing the others, then I would prefer to do that with my new ally than on my own.

 

“How are we even going to kill them?” I tremble at the thought of having to stab another person in the neck and my knees feel weaken. 

 

“Well, I’ll trap them and kill them just how I trapped you, except we have to get them to go into the traps. That’s where you come in.” He points at me instructively. 

So I’m bate, is that it? He is willing to risk my life so he can kill them when they are safely woven in a firm net. No, I don’t want to do this. My mind automatically thinks back to Amos and the thought of having to face them one way or another. I don’t want to kill and this is my only way to avoid it. 

 

“So I will be the bait and then you will be the killer?” His eyes trace the outline of my whole body then meet my own. They are so incredibly beautiful and serene. I melt on the inside as I look at him. I shall trust him and I hope he trusts me. 

 

“Yes, you’re the bait.” He flicks his eyes away at this point, but why? I don’t feel awkward or embarrassed so why does he? Or is there something deeper to this, I don’t know and I’m too warn out to think. 

 

When we arrive back to my hideout, it must be about mid-afternoon. On the way back we both hunted animals and talked about our plan some more. We will start tomorrow so we can be clear on who was definitely killed yesterday and today. Plus, it will also give chance for others to be killed by the career. Well, I hope they are anyway. I nestle down into the hideout first and then wave for Finnick to sit next to me. There is just the right amount of room for both of us to fit together sideways and place our packs in front of us. 

 

I glance over to his green back pack and back to mine. His looks more filled out and bulkier. Finnick makes himself more comfortable before undoing the zip. My eyes instantly become intrigued on what lies beyond that zip. He looks over to me as he starts pulling out some gear and smirks at me. I can’t help but lean in a little, either towards the bag or him, I’m not quite sure. The first thing that appears out of the bag is a flask. It’s similar to mine but larger. He gently places it in front of us and in the middle. My hand reaches out tentatively towards the flask and I pick it up off the ground slightly. It’s half empty but it still holds more water than what mine did when it was full. More things materialize in front of my eyes including some of those dried fruit and nuts. Only, again, they are in a larger quantity. 

 

I’m impressed with the amount of things he has managed to get into his pack. We now have a hefty pile of items: a larger, longer knife, more rope, dried fruit and nuts, torches, matches, poison darts and blow tube, water flask, some dried beef strips and finally a tiny tube of medicine that is supposed to be applied to cuts or burns. I haven’t even begun to show him my very small amount of items yet. I empty out the content in my pack and Finnick raises his eyebrows.

 

“Whoa. We sure have a lot. Think we should split the load so it’s easier to carry?” I look into those gorgeous green eyes and nod my head.

 

I quickly turn my head away though and begin to take things of the pile of items and stuff them into my bag. My hand comes to a stop though when I feel skin brush across them. I feel his hand press down over mine as I go to take the matches off the floor. My cheeks burn slightly at the touch and I try to stall the flood of red devouring them. “Wait. We should even out the food and supplies in case we split up.” His voice seems to linger as he says the last words. It’s like he is trying to hint that I’ll be breaking the alliance soon. I haven’t even thought about it.

 

I nod my head in agreement and take out the items from my pack that I had already loaded. He passes me the beef, nuts, one of the torches, a piece of rope, my flask and a packet of matches. Finnick begins to load the last items into his pack and we set them aside. Now that all is left is to wait. We gather together a very small amount of fire wood from just outside the boulders and hope the lingering daylight will be enough to disguise the fire. The game we cook on the small splint is nice enough, but plain in taste and is very chewy. But I’m not the one who should be complaining. I’m used to low quality food and starvation. 

 

Night seems to take forever to come and in the meanwhile a canon has blasted. We seem to be really cutting through the tributes this year. That’s when the seal of Panem appears in the distance; high up I the sky. The anthem begins to play and one by one the faces of the fallen tributes flash up in the dimly lit arena. They repeat over the previously killed starting with Kier. The new additions to it are Amos, obviously. The girl from district 5 also makes an appearance. Finally the new tribute is from 12. What! Daemon’s face lights up onto the projection and it seems to blur. That’s when I realise I have tears lining the bottom of my eyes. I discreetly turn my head to the left where I know Finnick won’t be able to see my eyes.

 

After what seems like ages, the seal disappears out of sight and the anthem is cut off. 

“That’s it then.” His surprisingly melancholy voice makes me jump. “We know who we have to kill.”


End file.
